Treacherous
by Blue Seidr
Summary: "The downward path he's slipping and sliding down head first is treacherous in every definition of the word, and he loves it." A Leorai drabble.


***Gasp* I actually wrote a Leorai drabble again? Whoa . . .**

 **You can thank Taylor Swift's album _Red_ , because I've just got it and been listening to it on repeat and nearly every single song screams Leorai. This drabble was inspired specifically by Treacherous. Check it out and enjoy!**

Neither of them ever seem to make the first move; one of the many weird quirks of their relationship that Leo ponders over in the gut-wrenching, heart-tugging hours spent staring at the pitch black ceiling of his room. They're magnetic, drawing each other closer and closer, flirting back and forth, bits of bare skin brushing but never really touching, eyes never wavering as they come in and out of focus.

She'll come close to acting, hanging tantalizingly close, lips an intense red that burns through his mind when he reflects upon these stolen moments, but in the end, a small slice of air will come between them, even as their foreheads rest against each other, and her hands trace slow grooves in his plastron.

In the end, gravity forces one to the other, and in sync, they will pound together. From then, there is nothing hesitant about their actions, nothing to hold them back as she attacks him, forcing him to the ground and pinning his hands, pressing her lips to his in a bruising kiss. But he doesn't let her keep the upper hand long. He worms his way out from under her and grabs her own wrists, holding them together with one of his own massive palms, and using the other to run his fingers over her features as he frantically kisses her petal-soft lips, afraid if he slows she'll be gone once more.

She never disappoints, feisty and fighting him every step of the way, but also egging him on and enjoying every second she makes him work for the privlege - the _honor_ of being able to be with her this way. If he ever tries to leave, to stop for even a moment, though, she drags him back in to her and her mercy.

She's so wrong, dangerous and slippery as a snake, a viper actually, charming him with her beauty and pulling him closer and closer to his doom. It would be smart to avoid her completely, like his family orders him, but she is quicksand, pulling him down and pulling even faster if he dares to try to escape.

She is without a doubt dangerous. She haunts him in ways both physically and mentally, and nearly every second spent with her is a knife's edge that he has already been nicked by more than once. He feels like he's falling down a hill, reaching panicked for anything to cling to as he skids uncontrollably towards an uncertain end. Yet, at the same time, he throws himself down the hill, enjoying every pulse-racing moment. She's so wrong, but Leo loves her so much, addicted to the treachery of their passion.

He's not sure if it was ever his choice to get involved with her. She had been the one to approach him the first couple times they had met, and then after that, it hadn't mattered, because by then he was a goner. Even when he's hesitant to move forward, she prys the words from his throat with only a flirtatious smile and tilted head.

Part of him protests even looking her direction sometimes, screaming that she's Foot, Shredder's daughter no less, as wrong a girl as he could ever pick. That he's insane, and that he needs to get back on track to being the leader of his brothers, holding up the example of the responsible son. But trying to go with the flow fails, because she is friction with her prickly nature and rebellious spirit, and any attempt to distance himself from her fails to get very far.

She's reckless and rude and a horrible influence on him. The down hill direction she leads him is fraught with pitfalls, and the path he's going on is unhealthy at best and destructive at worst, but he couldn't care less. When he's with her, he's high on her touch, her taste, her feel, and the spike of adrenaline from daring to do this sends him into euphoria. When he's with her, nothing matters but the breathless speed of them colliding and dancing and fighting. He loves it, and he loves her.

They meet when they can, the headlights of her motorcycle and his pilfered Shell Cycle lighting up a deserted street as they take full advantage of the cover of night (and the privacy provided by his bike) to kiss and touch and bask in each other's presence and battle for a moment of dominance. He's nervous and afraid of discovery, but there is no reward if there is no risk. He's risking it all for her, and the reward has been worth it every single time.

His family would be murderous if they knew just what he did on his outings. He would not be surprised if he was disowned for betraying their trust and his clan by associating with one of the enemy. It's treachery in the highest to live this way, dangerous to dream of his love. Hoping for a future for her, hoping to one day commit to her fully and live as one, it's wrong to everyone around him.

Just the flicker of hope is treacherous, and yet, he can't bring himself to care. He likes it. The risk, the rebellion, the refusal to fall into line like always. He's picked this up from her, and he silently thanks her for it every hour. He's never felt more free than when wrapped in cloaks of secrecy. Acting out feels more liberating than he could have imagined, and he revels in it.

The downward path he's slipping and sliding down head first is treacherous in every definition of the word, and he loves it.


End file.
